


Elevator

by sherlock_and_tea



Series: Sherlock Needs to Pee [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Desperation, Holding pee, Multi, Pee, Sherlock needs to pee, Undercover, full bladder, pee dancing, pee desperation, platonic, stuck in an elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 10:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15705063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlock_and_tea/pseuds/sherlock_and_tea
Summary: "How long will we be stuck here?""Not long, I hope. How long have you been holding that?""...a bit too long."(READER CAN BE OF ANY GENDER)





	Elevator

((A/N: REVIEW AS YOU READ, AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK. GOSH, IT'S SO QUIET HERE! Y'KNOW HOW EVERY OTHER FANFIC HAS REVIEWS IN EVERY SINGLE PARAGRAPH:( ))

Finally! A case! This time, the two of you had to go undercover somewhere to interrogate a few people.

"I'm ready!" You ran out, grinning. Sherlock was already ready and was pacing around the room impatiently. As soon as you stepped out, he grabbed your hand and the two of you raced outside. Sherlock had a bag, some files, fake ID and a laptop. He took you downstairs to a store at the end of the street and bought some very professional looking magazines about financial stuff and a cup of coffee.

"That completes the look!" he said and walked out of the store and hailed a cab. You both stepped in, and within ten minutes, you reached the place.

"What's this about?"

"We don't know yet, but Lestrade said there's something suspicious going on. We'll do an inspection of the place, pretend to be some officials, gather what we could and leave."

You nodded and walked into the building. Sherlock shook hands with the guards and produced Mycroft's ID. They scanned it and let the two of you in.

It was tiring, to say the least. Three hours in the building, talking to the managers and you could already feel your eyes drooping.

Sherlock felt worse. The coffee he had had that afternoon made him feel less sleepy, alright, but it didn't make him entirely happy about his bladder. Nothing to worry about, of course. He did a quick calculation in his mind. Tea, water, coffee. But not a lot. He needed to pee, but he wasn't holding a lot...so far.

He shook his leg up and down impatiently as he stood talking to the man.

"Have a seat, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock stepped forward gladly and sat down, crossing his legs and leaning back casually, no matter how much he longed to lean forwards.

"So, as I was saying, we've had a good increase in our sales."

Sherlock listened intently while you just stared out of the window, utterly bored.

"Could you show me some proof?"

The man nodded and stood up, walking to the back of the room and rummaging through a shelf.

Sherlock immediately crossed his legs tighter and leaned forward, pressing his crotch onto the chair. He nudged you, and muttered something, still leaning forwards.

"What!?" you whispered.

"I need to pee!" he whispered back, his hands moving to his thighs.

"When will this whole thing be done?"

"About two hours."

"Let's just leave already! I'm boreeeeddd!"

"And I need to pee." Sherlock stated, leaning back into the chair and sighing.

The man came back with some files and gave them to you. You flicked through them, faking interest.

"Let's just get this done with quickly, shall we?" Sherlock said, bouncing his legs rapidly. "We have loads of work left to do."

You nodded and noted down some figures before standing up, thanking the man and leaving. Sherlock stood up slowly and followed you.

"Off to the next floor then?" you asked, running in to the elevator. You just wanted to finish this and get back home.

Sherlock followed you in but stiffened as you entered the floor number. "Wait, (Y/N), hang on. I'll just pop to the -" he started, his hand over yours, but the elevator doors had just closed.

"To the loo?"

"Yeah."

"Don't worry about that, there'll be one upstairs!"

"Nah, it's fine. I know there are many."

You smiled, but froze as the elevator stopped with a jerk. The sudden movement made Sherlock double over and cling onto you desperately.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine" he said, slowly straightening up. "How long will we be stuck here?"

"Not long, I hope. How long have you been holding that?"

"...a bit too long." he said, slamming the buttons of the elevator. Nothing happened.

"I think the elevator's jammed or something." you said and pressed the intercom button. Nothing.

"No, no, no!"

"Calm down, Sherlock. We'll be out soon." you said, sitting down and motioning for him to sit down next to you.

Sherlock sat down slowly, trying not to put any pressure on his bladder, and crossed his legs. "This better not take long!" He said, rubbing his thighs.

Half an hour. What the hell? You've been stuck here for half an hour?? Sherlock looked at his watch and realised the same thing.

He was so full right now. He pulled his legs back and pressed his heels under his groin. Sherlock slowly rocked forwards and backwards on his heels.

You immediately noticed his awkward position.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" you asked, reaching out to hold his hand, but you were too late.

His hands rushed to his crotch before you could reach him. He squeezed himself tightly and let out a shaky breath.

"DO I EVEN LOOK OKAY??!" He yelled at you, as his knuckles turned white with all the pressure from holding.

"Sherlock, just-"

"Don't tell me what to do!" he said stubbornly, before crossing his legs over his hands.

"Okay then! Suit yourself!"

Another half an hour. The pressure in his bladder was growing more prominent every second. He tried to sit still, but he couldn't.

You watched as he put his heels in different positions under his groin, changing his posture every other minute.

"Sherlock, just go!"

"Where?!"

"I dunno, pick a corner?"

Sherlock snorted and pressed his heels in tighter, nearly falling forwards.

"I know just what I need" he said, stuffing his hand into his pocket and pulling out his phone, but not before giving his crotch a small squeeze through his trouser pocket.

He shifted his weight on his heels again, pressing his groin from a different angle now, while typing furiously on the phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Typing."

"About?"

"Tobacco ash."

You shrugged and did a facepalm. Fifteen minutes passed with the noise of Sherlock's fast typing echoing in the elevator. He suddenly lifted his head up from his phone. The pressure! It had intensified a lot!

He tried stuffing his fake file and magazines in between his thighs, but they weren't enough. Damn it. Sherlock stood up very, very slowly.

"(Y/N), I need to pee. NOW."

"I know that."

He stuffed his hands under his groin. "We have to get out of here."

You pressed the open button, but nothing happened. The intercom did not work either. At last, you tried pulling the two doors apart, but they were closed as tightly as Sherlock's thighs were.

Sherlock did not bother to help. He wished he could, but at this moment, he needed to focus all his strength on holding in the ocean inside him. Sherlock sighed and began pacing around.

He stopped and turned towards you, doing a small dance from side-to-side. "I don't think I can hold this anymore."

"Shut up, Sherlock, you can. Trust me. You can do it."

Sherlock squatted down on the floor, one hand on the bar on the elevator for support, the other pressing his crotch. He shut his eyes tightly.

Sherlock remained squatting on the floor with his hand jammed into his groin for the next five minutes.

He suddenly fumbled with his trouser waistband, undid his belt and threw it onto the floor, sighing in relief. "Pressure's gone down."

Still squatting, he presses his heels into his groin. 

He pulls his long coat off and hurls it towards the elevator wall. "I'm going to regret this." He says, as he stands up, clutching himself tightly, unzips and begins peeing with full force onto the coat. "Absorbent enough, I hope." He cringed.

You stood beside him, staring in shock. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Twenty five. Thirty seconds. What the actual hell?!?

"Sherlock, what the hell? Are you even done?!"

"Very nearly" he moaned in relief. "Do you have any idea how good this feels?" He closed his eyes and smiled.

"Yeah, you've told me quite a few times." You rolled your eyes. In all the time you had known Sherlock since you were kids, he had told you so many times about that feeling of joy. The relief and the happiness when you finally get to pee somewhere after holding a lot in for ages. 

You remembered that smile. You'd seen it on him before - at home, at the school loo, at your shared room back in uni after a long day, near alleyways, trees and bushes, during multiple adventures.

The unfortunate coat was shoved into Sherlock's bag, and the two of you walked out like nothing had happened when the elevator finally opened another hour later.


End file.
